Just Like ThatMMT 2010 - A Play in Two Acts

Just like that. I was
suddenly running really well. I had
skidded down the steep descents, avoided the mud, picked my way across the
rocks and now, after a quick glance over my shoulder, I turned it loose, found
a pace that was just this side of work and simply released, letting gravity
pull me down the Indian Grave trail. Breathing easily, rhythmic footfalls, transported somehow into that
altered state where the running is effortless, and distance melts away. Golden sunshine, evening's longer shadows
tilting the landscape, spreading through the forest. Unknowingly, I'd reached into the void and found
something to hold onto.

I was 47 miles into the Massanutten Mountain Trails 100 Mile
Run, and for the first time since the race began I was alone on the trail. And at this moment, in this time, in this
place, I was free and fast, a willing passenger riding the tide of nature's
swift currents.

The Massanutten Mountain Trails 100-mile Run (MMT) is staged
every year by the Virginia Happy Trails Running Club, the running club to which
Pam and I belong. This 100-miler is considered by most who know it to be one of
the more difficult 100 milers in the country. The course is just about all
trails and those trails are nothing but rocks. In fact, the term trail doesn't really apply to many of the rockier portions of the
course. The route is along the ridges of the Massanutten Mountains, and the aid
stations are in the valleys below. Thus, every descent to an aid station is
followed by a climb back up to the ridge. This results in over 16,500 feet of
elevation gain and loss during the course of the run. The climbs are long and
unforgiving, and many of the descents are simply too rocky to really run. The
only thing more impressive than the difficulty of the race is the beauty of the
setting. The steep and rugged old Massanutten Mountains erupting from the Shenandoah
Valley floor underscore a natural beauty that rivals anything I've seen anywhere.

The Trail

This was my fifth MMT, and even though I'd completed this
race the past four consecutive years, this year was very different. Two things combined to make this year unlike
any of my previous runs here.

The first thing making this year so different from the past
was that the start / finish had been relocated to a different place in this
loop course than it had been in the past. The new start and finish location was the Caroline Furnace Camp, which
also served as the race headquarters. With the relocation of the start / finish, even though the course was
essentially the same loop as in years past, runners would encounter the
different sections of the run at different times than we previously had. This meant that some of the places I was used
to running in the dark I would now encounter in daylight, and conversely, some
of the more difficult portions of the course which heretofore had been encountered earlier in the race, would now be experienced
later when fatigue had already set in. This promised to be a considerably harder course configuration than what
I had experienced in my four previous runs here, and all my data concerning
times between aid stations and times over various portions of the course, was
rendered invalid because of the revised order of the course.

The second thing making this year's race different for me
was that I was very well trained, very well rested, and I would be running at
least some of the early portion of the race with my friend and training partner
Rhonda Stricklett. This was to be
Rhonda's first 100 miler, and in fact it had only been 15 months since Rhonda
had run her very first ultra marathon, and for better or worse I was her
self-appointed coach. Rhonda and I had
been training for MMT together ever since January, and in the process we'd run
the entire MMT course, and we'd run much of it multiple times. I was confident that the training we'd done
combined with a long taper beginning three weeks prior to the race, would
assure us both of achieving our desired outcomes. We'd planned to begin the race together, and
run together as long as was reasonable, but we were in agreement that if one of
us started to have a bad patch or begin to lag behind, the other would continue without waiting.

Rhonda, Pam, and Alan on Friday
afternoon

Pam, Rhonda and I drove down to the camp on Friday afternoon,
arriving in time for the pre race briefing followed by the pre race
dinner. The weather was hot and humid,
but the forecast promised cooler and drier conditions for race day. After a relatively sleepless night at our
motels in nearby Woodstock, we were back at the camp by 4:15 AM.

I spent the time before the race visiting with friends,
aware all the while of how much more relaxed I felt than I had in previous
years. At a few minutes before 5:00AM,
we assembled on the gravel road leading out from the camp. A quick hug and kiss from Pam, and I joined
Rhonda near the starting line, and as I stood there I felt relaxed and oddly
confident. Always in the past this has been
a tough time for me as I sort of withdraw into my own little world, and become
almost zombie like as I spin a cocoon of non feeling protection all around
myself, not allowing any emotions or thoughts, and I usually find myself in an
almost dream like state, oddly detached in an effort to protect myself from my
fears and uncertainties. Now, standing
in the darkness of the starting line, not alone and withdrawn as in the past
but relaxed, assured, and enjoying the moment, as I confidently await the
race's start. I feel happy and relaxed. Suddenly the assembled runners begin to
move and like some giant insect just waking up we begin with half steps at
first and then longer strides, flashlights stabbing the darkness, to run
through the inky darkness of pre dawn in
the mountains. Easy strides now
delivering us into a wondrous adventure of exploration. Desire winning out over
apprehension. No more training. This is it. Just like that.

As part of my preparation for the race I had made a pace
chart that among other things showed my arrival times at each of the 15 aid
stations I would encounter during my run. Since the course configuration was different this year, I couldn't use
my split times from previous years. Instead I used times from training runs
combined with estimates of my actual pace calculated from some of my previous
splits, but adjusted for the new course configuration. My new pace chart predicted that I'd finish
in 33 hours and 20 minutes. My previous
best time on this course in its old configuration was 32 hours and five
minutes, and I felt my new pace chart reflected a pretty accurate estimate of
my finish time given the fact that I knew the present configuration of the
course would be significantly more difficult. This year's course had the easier, more runnable portion of the race
coming in the first third if the race and the more difficult terrain coming in
the later portion of the run. This
year's course had about 7500 feet of climbing coming in the last 39 miles of
the race, and much of this would be at night.

For months leading up to this year's MMT it had been all
about The Plan. Rhonda had been part of my crew and had paced me for a portion
of my MMT run in 2009. When she signed
up for this year's MMT she announced that she was depending on me for guidance
with her training. I know what works for
me and what has brought me success in the past. The best I could offer Rhonda was my own plan designed for my
needs. My plan became her plan and soon
it was all about The Plan. We ran all of
the MMT group training runs. We ran
country roads when the blizzards of February kept us off the trails. Together in epic weather conditions, we ran
the Elizabeth Furnace 50km, which covered portions of the MMT course, and we
ran the Bull Run Run 50 miler together which covered none of the MMT course but
was fun anyway. We made numerous trips
to the Massanutten Mountains for training runs on our own. We ran the night portion of the MMT course
on a beautiful starlit night, and on our last trip into the mountains, three
weeks prior to the race date, we ran the first third of the race course, just
to get an idea of how it would unfold for us on race day. For the three weeks leading up to the race we
rested, confident that we had maximized our training plan, and anxious for race
day to arrive. I knew without a doubt that I had never in the past been as well
trained and as well rested as I was this year. Part one of The Plan had gone really well. Time now for part two of The Plan.

Act One

I've done this before. But never like this. I'm running
easily at the start of the race, but instead of the usual sequestration of
emotions and non feeling withdrawal into my own little world, I'm chatting with
Rhonda, joking with friends and excited to finally, after all these months of
hard work, sacrifice, and anticipation, be moving into the great adventure that
lays spread out over these rugged old mountains before me.

The first 3.7 miles of the race are all uphill on a gravel
road. The Plan is to run this portion of
the race very conservatively, and to actually walk most of the uphill sections.
The humidity is near 100% and I'm hot right from the start. Oddly, after all
the preparation, all the uncertainty, and all the anticipation, as we run along
Mooreland Gap Road the feeling is very similar to beginning a long training
run. Just like that. Through the darkness and into adventure.

We arrive at the trail head five minutes faster than The
Plan predicted. I top off my water
bottle and we're off into the woods. It's nearly sunrise. I stow my
flashlight. Single track through the
woods and then up and over the rocks on the first climb up Short Mountain. Once atop the mountain the sky begins to
brighten as the clouds break up and the sun shines down. I can feel the humidity dropping as a cooling
breeze brings with it much drier air.

Alan & Rhonda arrive at
Edinburg Gap

Rhonda and I make good time over Short Mountain, but as we
near the second aid station, alarm bells are sounding. The bottoms of my feet are beginning to burn,
and at ten miles into a hundred miler this is cause for some real concern for
me. After a wonderful downhill section
we break out onto a road and the 11.7 mile Edinburg Gap aid station 25 minutes
ahead of The Plan. Pam is there waiting
for me, and I immediately sit down and get my shoes and socks off. Somehow or other I'd gotten some sand and
grit inside my socks, and the damage was already done to the balls of my feet. I get my feet cleaned up as well as I can,
get resupplied, swap my bottles for new full ones from Pam, find Rhonda where
her crew has been seeing to her needs, and we head out together for the long, steep, climb up
Powell Mountain. I tell Rhonda that we
need to dial it back a little bit. We
had come through the first section too fast, and I really want to slow down and
stick to The Plan of beginning the race slowly, and conserving energy as long
as possible. A very delicate balancing
act indeed. Reason battling with desire.
At Edinburg Gap, it's 8:04 in the
morning. I have run 11.7 miles and I'm in 132nd place out of 170 who
started the race.

On the long climb to the top of Powell's Mountain we caught
up to some slower runners and I was more than satisfied to simply fall in line
behind them and let their pace control my enthusiasm. Once atop the ridge though, we ran well. We were having a fantastic morning. The sky had become crystal clear. The air was cool and dry and the sun shone
down upon us with brilliant warmth, cooled slightly by a mild breeze. The running was almost effortless as we ran
further into the great adventure. Perfect.

When we arrived at the Woodstock Tower 19.9 mile aid station
we were 50 minutes ahead of The Plan. Since there was no crew access here we both had drop bags waiting for
us. I quickly sat down and once again
emptied grit from my shoes, shook out my socks and put my socks back on
opposite feet, all the while being waited on by the volunteers who were trying
to see to my every need. A longer stop
than I had wanted, but in the scheme of things, time well spent. Within minutes we were back on the trail, in
one of the more runnable single track sections of the course. My feet were tender but so far, things were
still under control as we ran smoothly and tried to keep our speed moderate
during these easier miles, out of respect for the more difficult terrain still
to come. At Woodstock Tower it was 10:15
in the morning. I've run 19.9 miles and
I was in 128th place.

The Plan was for us to start conservatively which in fact we
had done. My pace chart reflected my
best guesses for split times between aid stations and although I had missed my
guess on the early aid stations, by this aid station, my predictions appeared
to be pretty accurate. By following the
pace chart and making the necessary adjustments, our crews who would be meeting
us at most of the aid stations, were able to have a pretty good idea of when to
expect us. However since it had been
over 20 miles since our crews had seen us, they had their hands full figuring
out when we'd arrive at the next crew accessible spot.

Coming into the 25.1 mile aid station at Powell's Fort we
were still 50 minutes ahead of The Plan. We quickly re-fuelled and were out of there, buoyed on by the fact that
in another 7.5 miles, at The Elizabeth Furnace aid station, our crews would be
waiting for us. At Powell's Fort it
was 11:42 in the morning. I've run 25.1
miles and I was in 131st place.

The sun was shining down from a deep blue cloudless sky, the
humidity was low, I was moving well, and I was where I wanted to be. Everything, except my tender feet, was going
according to The Plan. Along the way, I
got to share Rhonda's excitement. Sometimes we ran in silence and sometimes we talked, but we never ran
out of topics of conversation. During
our months of training we had shared so much time and place leading up to this
time in space, and now, just as we'd planned, just like that, it was all coming
together and it only seemed right that after training so much together that we
got to share this experience.

The weather is such a large part of what I'm doing here in
these old mountains, and today the weather is beyond compare. Being outside, feeling the sun, breathing the
air. I'm running well, and somehow that
physical exertion in this wondrous place opens a new door to an inner peace,
and I feel that somehow on some fundamental level I get to be an essential part
of my surroundings. But there is a small
trade off today. I find what in prior
years has always been an almost spiritual experience to be somehow oddly
different as I share this time with Rhonda and others. In prior years, running alone, I seemed to
connect with my surroundings on an almost supernatural level. From the time I stood on the starting line,
this experience has been different for me. I'm not alone. Sharing this time
with Rhonda; sharing in her excitement and engaging with others along the way
has kept me focused more on conversation and sharing rather than the
comfortable feeling of being alone and united with my surroundings I've
experienced in years past. This is
neither a good thing nor a disappointment. It is what it is, and it is new to me, and I welcome it and embrace it
and try to wring out of it all I'm able. I'm still a part of it all. I don't feel so much as if I get to
experience the mountains, but more than experience them I feel like I become
part of them and I'm bringing my friend with me on this journey, showing her
the way, and by sharing my own excitement, helping to open the door to secret mysteries in these wonderful peaceful
old mountains.

After a long climb we have three miles of great downhill running
that will deliver us into the 32.6 mile Elizabeth Furnace aid station. This
downhill trail is rocky in some places but for the most part it affords some of
the best running of the race. I embrace
the moment, turn my thoughts inward, and let the tide of desire wash over
me. I run ahead of Rhonda and settle
into a rhythm embracing the moment, reveling in the here and now as the trail
accepts me on its terms and I take what it offers and, just like that, I'm
transported to a different place.

My crew has grown. Our great friends Beth Weisenborn and Lenny Wrabel have joined Pam. Team
Alan lives! This is the third year Beth has been part of the Team Alan crew and
pacer contingent, and this is the fourth time Lenny has been the anchor of the
team. Upon my arrival they quickly go to
work. Without any input from me they
have my shoes and socks off, get my feet cleaned and powdered, and get clean
socks and new shoes on me. I again trade
off my bottles for full ones, drink another Ensure, grab a PBJ, and within
minutes I'm dragging Rhonda away from her crew and we're back on the trail,
beginning the two mile climb up to Shawl Gap. The Plan called for my crew to take care of me. Everything is going according to The
Plan. At Elizabeth Furnace it is 1:37 in
the afternoon. I've run 32.6 miles, and I am in 124th place.

Alan &
Rhonda arrive at the Shawl Gap aid station

The climb up to Shawl Gap goes well. The temperatures have risen and on some of
the non-shaded portions of this section we get pretty hot baking under the
brilliant sun. After a nice downhill
trail we come rolling in to the 37.6 mile Shawl Gap aid station. After a quick re-supply and a cold wet towel for the face and neck, our crews
get us out of there in pretty quick order. At the Shawl Gap aid station it is
3:04 in the afternoon. I've run 32.6
miles and I'm in 121st place.

Leaving Shawl Gap we run a gravel road for
three miles. This is the hottest time of
the day, there's not too much shade, and the heat seems to be bothering some of
the other runners. We soon arrive at the
Veach Gap aid station and quickly begin the long climb up to the next
ridge. At the Veach Gap aid station it
is 3:51 in the afternoon. I've run 37.6
miles and I'm in 119th place.

The climb up Veach Gap goes well. As long as I'm going uphill or flat, my feet
feel pretty good, but on the downhill
sections, I'm having more and more discomfort. Before too long we crest the ridge and have a nice ridge top single
track trail to run. There are some
beautiful views and although still hot, the day is spectacular. We pass a number of runners on this section
and as we run I can tell that Rhonda is beginning to have a little energy
crisis. She doesn't complain, but her
comments reveal her dilemma. I tell her
to hang on for a little bit more because in just a short distance the trail
will turn downhill and she'll be able to coast for a while and get revived. We arrive at the turn for the Indian Grave trail
and the terrain turns steeply downhill. I run down at a moderate pace and I can hear Rhonda behind me, but I can
tell without looking back that she is beginning to lag behind. I start to consider what I will say to her
as I become aware that the inevitable is about to happen. I plan to stop and offer a few encouraging
words before we part company. At this
point we both need to run the pace that is comfortable for each of us. We've
run together for months in all kinds of weather, braving the cold and snow of
winter, and facing hypothermia from immersion in raging floods training in
these very mountains. We'd run together
on our home turf at Hashawha and we'd run together through the night along the
ridge tops of the Massanuttens. Now, on
the side of a mountain we'd trained on months ago, our time of running together
was going to end. I was really running
well as I sped downhill and considered what was about to happen. Rhonda and I would from this point, at about
47 miles into the race, go our separate ways. We'd planned for this and we both knew it was a possibility and now the
time was upon us. I slowed to a walk and
turned around. No Rhonda. I could see up the hill a long way and she
was nowhere in sight. I turned and ran
until I was in a position to see a little farther back up the trail. I stopped, turned and searched for her. She was nowhere to be seen. Just like that.

Act Two

I was running really well. It was late afternoon, and in lengthening shadows I somehow was able to
just turn it loose and run. The Indian
Grave trail becomes an old forest road and it is all downhill. I actually ran this pretty hard, feeling very
comfortable. Being alone for the first
time in the race, I welcomed the chance to enjoy the journey on my own
terms. "Coach" Alan felt uncomfortable
leaving his "student" in such an awkward fashion. But the mountains beckoned,
the late day sun shown down and I reveled in the chance to simply release and
let the Indian Grave trail deliver me into the big mountains yet to come. Deeper into my own great adventure. After passing several runners I hit the
Indian Grave aid station where I re-filled my bottles and grabbed a PBJ. There was no crew access here and at the
Indian Grave aid station it was 6:24 in the evening. I'd run 49.7 miles and I was in 105th
place.

I made the turn out onto a four mile section of gravel road
that I'd been dreading, since roads are not my strength and after already
covering 50 miles, I knew from experience that this road section would be
miserable. Well I have no idea what
happened but I felt good and energized, and I ran that road section faster than
I've ever run it before. In fact I ran
that section in the 45th fastest time of anyone in the race. At the next aid station my crew was of course
ready for my arrival and I once again had my feet tended to and got clean socks
and shoes. I grabbed my lights and
changed from my bottles to a hydration pack with some warmer clothes and spare
lights I thought I might need during the night. I told Rhonda's crew that she would be along soon, and within minutes I
was attacking the climb up to Habron Gap, which is one of the hardest climbs in
the entire race. At the Habron Gap aid
station it was 7:12 in the evening. I've
run 53.6 miles, and I'm in 97th place.

The ridgeline after
Habron Gap

The climb up to Habron Gap goes really well. I'm still feeling very good and I pass
several more runners. Finally attaining
the ridge, I'm energized by the beauty of all that envelopes me. This is a narrow ridge and it is truly beautiful. Rocks everywhere and yet easy running. Narrow path twisting along the ridge. Views in all directions. Golden late day sunlight. Particles of color, hanging suspended in
crystalline air changing the feel of these old mountains vibrating with beauty,
wild azaleas still in bloom and the mountain laurel flowering everywhere. This is why I came. This, to me, is what MMT is all about. I loved sharing all this with Rhonda during
this long day. Mentor and mentored as it
were. But
to be alone up high running this ridge, running well, connecting somehow to
very soul of the mountains, brings me joy and peace and a feeling of essential
connection with the rocks and the air and the mountains themselves. It's about connecting with the
intangible. It's about the
mountains. It's the power and
the peace of those old mountains. It is air and sunshine and weather and
nature. Daylight and darkness. Wind and
water. It's about being part of it
rather than just passing through. It's
getting closer to where I came from, all the while moving and getting closer to
where I want to be. It is doing it
myself. Work through the process,
concentrate on the process, and let the result quietly appear, as the layers fall
away and through this process I experience life in an altered state.

I can feel more than see the twilight slowly evolve to
dusk. Long shadows disappearing as
obsidian pools of black appear from the shadows of the understory and flood out
across the trail. I stop, get out my lights, and soon by headlamp's glow I'm on
my way again as, imperceptibly, darkness envelops the forest. I run the remainder of this section feeling
very good. I'm excited because at the
next aid station I'll once again see my amazing crew and Beth will be able to
join me to pace me through the next section. The sky is dotted with stars, with the tiny sliver of the waxing
crescent moon glowing high above. I hear
the first whippoorwill of the night. Coming out of the woods I make the turn into the Camp Roosevelt aid
station. As my crew gets clean socks and
shoes on me I drink another Ensure, have some soup, and within minutes Beth and
I are headed out and onto the trail leading up Duncan Hollow. At Camp Roosevelt it is 10:15 at night. I've run 63.1 miles and I'm in 88th
place.

Foot Care at Gap Creek

Beth and I make good time up the dry creek bed that is the
Duncan Hollow trail and then slow a little bit as we climb up to Peach Orchard
Gap. This climb isn't too long but it
gets steep and footing on the rocks is difficult in the dark, We finally crest the ridge, pass through a
group of Boy Scouts who are camped almost on the trail and begin the downhill
run to the Gap Creek aid station. I have
to take this downhill more slowly than I'd like because the balls of my feet
are really burning and the trial is nothing but rocks. I have no choice but to be very careful of my
foot placement. My energy level is good
but because of my feet, I can't run like want to. We finally see some lights and soon we cross
the creek and run into the Gap Creek aid station. Once more Team Alan works on my feet. I'm concerned about the blisters I seem to be
getting but my crew does its job and soon I'm headed out with Pam pacing me as
we begin the steep climb up Jawbone Gap. At the Gap Creek aid station it is 12:11 in the morning. I've run 68.7 miles and I'm in 73rd
place.

Pam has paced me every year at MMT and it is always so
special to share this time and this experience with the love of my life. As we climb up the mountain side,
whippoorwills calling, we know how lucky we are to be here doing together this thing that means so much to me,
experiencing life in a different dimension, and sharing this special time with
each other. We finally reach the ridge
crest and continue to climb as we turn left and work our way up the shoulder of
Kern's Mountain. The rocky ridge line
that is the backbone of Kern's is difficult to describe. It is nothing but rocks and the trail, such
as it is, keeps switching back and forth across the ridge. The trail really can't be called a trail in
the normal sense of the word. It's just
a five mile long rock pile and nowhere does it afford any opportunity for me to
run. I'm walking and jogging the best I
can, but the terrain demands patience. There are wonderful views to both sides of the ridge and the lights of
New Market and Luray sparkle in the valleys so far below us. The tedium begins to wear on me and I can
tell I'll slowing down. I know from
training here with Rhonda a month ago that it's OK to be going slowly, but I
still feel like I should be going faster. The brief descent from Kerns is slowed by the condition of my feet which
are now on fire anytime I try to run downhill. Pam and I finally make the turn onto Chrisman Hollow road and make
pretty good time to the next aid station at the Visitors Center where Team Alan
is awaiting our arrival. I immediately
get clean shoes and socks. At this
point, twenty two hours in to the race I have my first solid food as I wolf
down a delicious grilled cheese sandwich. Beth is going to pace me on the next section and just as we're ready to
take off it begins to rain, so we take a few minutes to don jackets and hats
and then we're back on the trail heading to the toughest climb of the
race. At the Visitors Center aid station
it is 3:26 in the morning. I've run 77.1
miles. It's raining, and I'm in 71st
place.

As Beth and I begin the climb up Bird Knob it's raining
lightly, and the higher we get, the harder it rains. This is a long, steep, rocky climb and it
takes us quite a while to make it to the top. The trailside vegetation weighted with rainfall is hanging low across
the trail, making us even wetter, but we push on and finally arrive at the
top. The rain slowly subsides, and we
stop suddenly when we realize we're hearing fireworks in the valley below. At 4:00 in the morning. We never will be able to find out what the
fireworks were all about. We run along
the ridge and soon the lights of the Bird Knob aid station come into view. We only stop for a minute, and we're once again on our way. At the Bird Knob aid station it's 4:51 in the
morning. It's still dark. It has almost stopped raining. I've run 80.5 miles and I'm in 66th
place.

Beth and I run the gravel road to the purple blazed trail
that climbs very steeply before delivering us onto the other side of the ridge
where after a brief downhill section we make the turn onto the Brown's Hollow
trail. This trail has several miles of
downhill but my blisters won't allow me to run at the speed I'd like to. Almost unnoticed, daylight creeps into the
hollow. Lights no longer needed are put
away, and we keep running along, desire battling with reality. The day is overcast and the scenery isn't as
beautiful as I remember from my training runs here. Nonetheless, we finally make it to the Picnic
Area aid station where Team Alan anxiously awaits. I change shoes and socks for the last time,
eat a small portion of scrambled eggs and with Pam at my side I take off,
trying to make the best time I can on my sore and burning feet. At the Picnic Area aid station it is 6:55 on
a cloudy morning. I've run 86.9 miles
and I'm in 67th place.

Pam and I make pretty good time at first. I'm able to run flats without much trouble,
but going downhill is very slow because of my painful feet. We work our way up the seemingly never ending
climb alongside Dry Run, taking us up to Scothorn Gap. This is a very long tough climb, with steep
pitches combined with stream crossings and of course the never ending
rocks. A number of runners catch and
pass me here, but there is nothing I can do about it. The condition of my feet demands a slow
pace. It's frustrating to be going so
slowly when I feel pretty good, but I can only do what my body allows and so we
slowly carry on. This section ends with
almost two miles of gravel road, and although I'm able to run most of it, I'm beginning
to struggle a little. Finally we follow
the course markings into the woods and the Gap Creek aid station. Nothing much to do here. I drink the last Ensure of the race, say a quick goodbye to Lenny who has to leave Team Alan, and with Beth back on board
pacing me I begin to run the final section of the race. At the Gap Creek #2 aid station it is 10:05
in the morning. I've run 95.4 miles and I'm in 71st place.

This is the second time during the race that I've climbed up
Jawbone Gap, but this time instead to turning left and crossing Kern's
Mountain, we go straight on the extremely rocky downhill trail toward Mooreland
Gap. My energy has returned, and I want
to run but again, on this extremely rocky section my feet force me to just keep
jogging slowly as I try my best to dance across the rocks. Sooner than I remembered the trail begins to
flatten out and there are even some dirt areas in the trail. As the trail improves I begin to pick up the
pace, running pretty well, feeling some excitement, and before I expect to, I
see the trail head where in moments we make the turn out onto Mooreland Gap
Road.

This is the same road Rhonda and I'd run together over a day
and a half ago. The road that had led us
into the great adventure as we ran with 168 others through the humid darkness
on a Saturday in May. Here and now, on
this Sunday morning, as I turned onto this very same road, I had only about
three miles of this road and a short trail section and I'd be done. I'm not good running roads and now, with so
many miles under my belt, I'm dreading what is to come. But, with Beth jogging along beside me, I put
my head down and run. I'm able to run
pretty long stretches and I only have to walk occasionally. Beth has paced me at the end of MMT in the
past and she knows me. She tells me what
I'm already feeling. I've never run this
well at this point in the race. I know
that even though The Plan I'd worked out had me finishing in 33 hours and 20
minutes, there is in reality an outside chance I'll be able to break 31 hours.

The Finish Line MMT 2010

I run as hard as I can. I'm about to take
a walking break when I spy a runner and his pacer up ahead and somehow, after
over 100 miles, I find the strength to keep running and I actually try to pass
this other guy with authority, so he doesn't challenge me and he lets me
go. "Well done," Beth tells me. I keep looking for the sign marking the
entrance to the Camp, and finally after several overly anxious false alarms it
appears. I see the flagging marking the short trail section that
will take me from the road to the finish line, and I run with
determination. The last little trail section follows a meandering configuration, up and down a couple of steep
hills, a little tricky footing, I'm running, a little uphill, through the trees
I see the markings leading to the finishing chute, make the turn I see the
finish, pouring it on I begin to sprint, no pain, no feeling, I'm flying,
running hard flat out downhill and across the finish line. Done. Just like that. At the finish
line it is 12:03:31 in the afternoon. I've run 101.7 miles and I'm in 71st place out of 170 starters.

31 hours, 3 minutes and 31 seconds. Two hours and 17 minutes faster than The
Plan. One hour and two minutes faster
than my previous personal record at MMT.

Pam is at the finish to meet me, and after congratulations
from so many of my friends, I go take a shower, get something to eat, and
settle in near the finish line with Pam and some friends to wait for Rhonda and
to cheer for other finishers.

It doesn't seem to take too long before we can see Rhonda
and her pacer Allison approaching the finish, and with a burst of speed, Rhonda
comes running across the line, where I welcome her with open arms. Just like that. She did it. And she is ecstatic.

"Coach" Alan and Rhonda at the finish line

As we waited for the awards ceremony, I simply sat there in
a chair and watched other runners come across the line to their own personal
victories. I sat there in that chair,
surrounded by the mountains where the drama had played out. The mountains where just hours before I'd
been experiencing life in an altered state. A play in two acts. I experienced
MMT in a way I never had before. I also
got to reconnect with all that MMT has
always meant to me. The combined
adventure was new and different for me, and I know it is something I'll never
forget. I feel at peace in these old
mountains. And I feel thrilled with what
I've done. Just like that.

Epilogue

Rhonda had a great race after we parted ways. She never faltered, did what she knew she
needed to do, and finished in 33:29:45. My fifth consecutive finish at MMT was a personal record for me by over
an hour. As they say in automobile racing in order to win you have to be running at the end. I was. And whereas I didn't win, it enabled me to finish third out of 12 in my 60 and over age group. After the race I drove the 100 miles home, ate dinner and watched TV until I finally
went to bed 43 hours after awaking on race morning. MMT 2010 was my 82nd
ultramarathon.

I'm disappointed that Lenny couldn't have stayed for the
finish and I know he would have if I needed him to. Pam, Beth and Lenny. Team Alan has been simply amazing and without
the help and support of Team Alan, getting me through the aid stations and
pacing me for the last 39 miles of the race, I would never have had such a
wonderful outcome. I am humbled by their efforts on my behalf.

I never could have done this without Pam's help and
unfailing support.